


Cider

by Dawnshadow



Series: Two Scions Walk Into a Bar.... [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Mostly Setting Up For The Next One, Post-Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Urianger is a Ramuh Fanboy, Very Small Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 02:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnshadow/pseuds/Dawnshadow
Summary: In the wake of Ramuh, Thancred has a few questions about Urianger's thoughts on the primal. Surprisingly, he finds the man not in the library, but at the bar, where—he soon discovers-- Urianger had gone in search of HIM. They share a drink and some hope.





	Cider

"So you _do_ have a type." Thancred grinned at Urianger, who was standing before the little bar F'lhaminn had set up in the common room of the Rising Stones. In truth he knew Urianger's feelings on the primal were nowhere so personal in nature, but Urianger's reaction to such teasing was so often delightful. "Really, 'tis no surprise. I ought to have suspected it the moment we heard him speak. You and he are remarkably like in discourse."

"It is not solely for his refined discourse that I hold Ramuh in high esteem." Urianger did, however, return the smile before he claimed two mugs of hard cider from F'lhaminn. "Nor for his voluminous beard, ere thou doth attempt to claim that as the source of mine inspiration. Care thee for a drink whilst I enumerate those reasons for which he alone, amongst all the Primals currently known to me, is worthy of mine admiration?"

"Urianger, have ever you known me to turn down a drink?" Thancred followed him to a table. He'd thought it improbable in the first days _after_, but his friends had spoken truly; he was starting to have days when he didn't have to _pretend_ to be fine for his fellow Scions and just _was_ fine. Days when he could face the world without a drink or two in him first. And then there were days when he wasn't-- when a careless word drove his thoughts into an endless spiral of doubt and despair, when the sun in the cold, clear air of Mor Dhona caught on a chip of obsidian embedded in stone, when he startled awake terrified that he would find himself in black robes, when he just couldn't keep his mind on _here_ and _now_ and _this_. Today? Today was one of the good days. He accepted the cider as he settled down into a chair. "Share with me, then, your thoughts on Ramuh."

"The first among many reasons that he is worthy," Urianger started, "is that his purpose is that of justice and protection, naught more. He does not meddle with that which doth not pertain to his people and his forest. He seeks neither conquest nor power. He does not even temper deliberately, save by those of his people who petition him as the last act made of their own wills. At times his devoted take those unwilling through ritual, but he has no direct hand in this."

"Yet he is still a primal."

"Yes. And so he must be put down when he rises, so that he might not drain the very forest he exists to safekeep. 'Tis unfortunate that his followers, by their distorted nature, cannot understand the price of calling down their god; if they would only do so more cautiously, 'twould be near an ideal situation."

Thancred took a drink of the cider, enjoying the flavor—sweet, yet tart. Mild enough to be refreshing. Often had he seen Urianger accept a drink, but only once had he seen him continue past mildly tipsy. "Ideal so long as one doesn't mind being judged for wandering into the wrong part of the woods."

"He is fair. Thou didst witness his dealings with our champion—his retribution would not fall upon an innocent, I trust. He is well-known to be a symbol of wisdom. It is the highest honor that I had the chance to see him in battle. And even in his falling, he has provided vital knowledge—knowledge that I think will be of particular interest to thee."

"Oh?" Thancred raised an eyebrow. That sounded promising.

"Minfilia and I are preparing a detailed lecture for the morrow, but the short of it is this: we believe we have the seeds for a method by which Ascians might be permanently eliminated—their undying soul unwound, as was that of the Sahagin high priest we did witness."

"You have means of killing that which cannot be killed. Incredible. It's only a pity we didn't know this sooner." Thancred looked at his cider, then raised it into a toast. "To the death of one _particular_ Ascian."

Urianger raised his glass and drank, smiling faintly. "'Tis in part our observations of the fading remnants of dark energy left twined in thine aethereal signature during thy first hours of recovery that suggested that the Ascian soul was similar enough to more familiar souls to be capable of being trapped in the first place. Thine suffering is not in vain—it provided us vital clues that guided us along our path toward this revelation."

It was—in its own way—a comfort, knowing this. "Thank you. I'll look forward to the full explanation. And to the day when we might bring the fruits of this knowledge to bear." Knowing that he would never be _taken_ in such a way again… yes. Yes.

Urianger smiled and finished his glass. "I am glad that this knowledge brings ease to thine soul. Now, if thou mayst excuse me, I must attend to mine correspondence. An old friend of mine might have knowledge of her own that will aid us, and I full intend to call upon it."

Thancred watched Moenbryda as she left the solar, then looked to Urianger, smirking broadly. "So," he said quietly. "_You have a type_."

Urianger's silence told him more than any words could.


End file.
